Cycles Within Cycles
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: The cycle of the Reapers repeated itself every 50,000 years. The cycle of the Anthem repeated itself in a much shorter amount of time.


**Cycles Within Cycles**

If the planet had a name, Saren Arterius didn't know it.

He supposed he could have come up with a name. Astro-cartographers came up with names for planets all the time, though admittedly after they were given a designation. Many planets had numerous names, whether it come from the different languages of the species that made up the galaxy, or when different species had discovered planets at different times. At times, wars were fought over planets, and by extension, who had the right to name them.

This planet wasn't any of these things. It wasn't on any star chart within Citadel space, nor did the geth have information on it either. If the Reapers had ever come to this world before, to continue their perpetual cycle of genocide, there was no evidence of it either. Flying above the world in a dropship, looking at the feed from one of the external cameras, Saren could see ruins dotting the landscape, steadily being consumed by the jungle. Ruins that weren't much different from those dotting Palaven – the Grea. The Shul. The Cheska. Repeating the development of many sapients, turian civilizations had sprung up over the millennia before being lost to time, or calamity, or war. If the species of this planet had become extinct through similar means, then it was hardly remarkable.

Frankly, there was nothing remarkable about this world. But Bak Tok had called him here. Saren had little love for batarians, and less still for Bak, but Bak had proven his weight in platinum so far. Bak had been paid well, and if he had any misgivings working for a turian who surrounded himself with geth, he didn't show it. So when he disembarked from the dropship in the ruins below, flanked by a pair of geth both over a head taller than he was, he wasn't surprised to see Bak walking towards him, arms out wide like a krogan about to participate in wrestling. Certainly he looked happy enough.

"Saren," he said. "Delighted to see you."

The degenerate actually made it sound convincing. Saren forced a smile. "Bak," he said.

"Have you had a good trip?"

"As good as can be expected."

"Yes, I've been hearing about that. Some trouble with the Council?"

So he didn't know. Interesting. Bak, for all his faults, wasn't stupid, so either he wasn't listening to the space waves, or the Council was keeping things hush hush. That their star Spectre had gone rogue, and that their newest lapdog had been sent to find him in the depths of space. He might have been concerned if not for the much larger issues that had been occupying his mind in recent weeks.

"So what have you found?" Saren asked.

"Come, come," Bak said, gesturing Saren to enter the structure before them. "Things most interesting."

Saren gestured to the geth – they got the message and stayed put while he followed the batarian into the structure. A towering edifice of stone, still standing as the vines choked the life out of it.

"There's places like this all over this world," Bak said, as he used his omni-tool as a light source to guide them through. "It's astounding."

"The ruins?"

"No, the world. It's young, Saren. Incredibly young."

"How young?"

"If we take the instruments as writ, we're talking maybe a million years old."

"Impossible," Saren scoffed. "Life couldn't develop on a planet in so short a time."

"Exactly," Bak said. "Hence why I said as 'writ.' But when we investigated further, it appears that this world has been in a state of flux for most of its history. It only seems young, because its landscape has constantly been reshaped."

"On a planetary scale?" Saren asked.

Bak nodded.

"Interesting."

Saren knew himself to be intelligent – it wasn't vanity, it was a fact of life that had allowed him to rise through the ranks of the Hierarchy, before joining the Spectres and clawing his way to the top of their ranks as well. It was only through his intelligence that he could see the only course of action left for organic life in the face of the Reapers. So in the scope of all that intelligence, he knew how planetary formation worked. That planets eventually settled down after their point of formation, and that there was no way multicellular life could form so quickly after that point.

He was also intelligent enough to understand that money talked. So he wasn't surprised, as he walked into the artificial cavern that Bak led him into, that organics of various species were cataloguing the markings on the walls. Salarian, asari, batarian, with even a quarrian for good measure. No humans or turians though – he could live with that, for differing reasons.

"We believe that this is the site of an ancient kingdom," Bak said, as Saren came to a stop. "Based on the ruins around this place…well, all roads lead here, both figuratively and literally."

"Interesting," Saren murmured, his actual interest beginning to fade. "But how is this relevant to me, Bak Tok?"

The batarian nodded to a statue. "Come and look."

Saren did so, before stopping and staring. "Impossible," he murmured.

"That's what we all said," Bak said. "Well, not Baumolle. He just stared without saying anything."

Saren didn't know who Baumolle was. He didn't know who this stone person in front of him was either. But he knew her species, and as such, knew it was impossible for her to be here. And yet, here she was. A human.

"I thought you'd find this interesting," Bak said, smirking.

 _That damn word again._

"So what do you think?"

Saren didn't say anything. A human. An armour clad human with both her hands on a sword thrust into the ground. Like some kind of knight of old from turian myth, but with the universe throwing yet another indignity at him. And beyond that, a mystery. The human race had achieved interstellar space travel less than a century ago. How, by any saint, could one of Earth's bastard children be here?

"Is there any sign of higher technology?" Saren asked. "Any sign of their point of origin?"

"None," Bak said. "Far as we can tell, this is human civilization on a non-human world, developing to the point of their extinction.

Saren snorted – human extinction. A concept that he could indulge in if he gave into his darker impulses. Still, the Reapers were coming, and he had to save everyone he could. From his own species, to humanity. He was trying to avert genocide after all, and that mercy had to be extended to all.

Still, it rankled him. Because either some kind of convergent evolution had occurred, or humanity had been brought to this world for a purpose. Neither possibility was particularly appealing. He looked at Bak. "Is there anything here that may actually aid me?"

"Perhaps," he said. He gestured to Saren to follow him.

 _You better be worth this Bak._

He and Benezia had deep pockets. But like their patience, they weren't infinite. And he suspected that even the Reapers could run out of patience eventually. If they resolved to follow the cycle without his help, while it might cost them, it would cost his species dearly.

"Here," Bak said. "These carvings tell the story of this place."

Saren peered through the gloom – the carvings were simple, and told their story succinctly. A civilization would rise. A storm would come. The civilization would fall, and afterwards, monsters would rise. Again and again, the carvings repeated their story.

"A cycle within a cycle," Saren mused.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing Bak," he said – he'd let the batarian dwell in his ignorance. Chances were when the Reapers came he'd be among those deemed unworthy. Following the carvings, he came to a point of divergence. A figure in armour, leading lots of other figures in armour. The first figure was the same one he'd seen elsewhere in the structure. After that, civilization rose. But the carvings indicated through the storms and monsters that this time, it endured.

"A break in the cycle," Bak said. "This warrior led her people to safety. They endured the storms, and the creatures this world spawned. Until…"

Saren followed the batarian's arm – another figure had come. Clad in armour most different from the one earlier on in the carvings. Behind him were legions and storms both. The carvings showed legions marching out from another side.

Saren could guess where this was going as he reached the end of the carvings. Utter destruction for both sides. The legions gone. Civilization rent. The storms continuing. The monsters roaming at will. The cycle had reached its end, but apparently its forces continued.

"It's almost tragic really," Bak said. "If I'm interpreting this correctly, the people of this world found a way to survive its hazards, only to destroy themselves afterwards."

"It's not as uncommon as you think," Saren murmured.

"Oh yes, indeed, I'm well aware of the nuclear threshold concept. But still, do these people look like they harnessed the power of the atom?"

"No." Saren raised his hand to one of the legionnaires. One flying through the air in some kind of suit. "It appears they harnessed something different though."

"Ah yes. The Anthem of Creation."

Saren looked at Bak. "What?"

"The Anthem of Creation." He activated his omni-tool, showing Saren images of carvings, and the batarian's translation from them. "If we believe the writings of the people here, this is the force that shapes their world. Harnessed by the artifacts of their gods."

"Gods," Saren scoffed. "What are gods but advanced alien races?"

"Indeed. And what race more advanced than the Protheans?"

Saren said nothing, even as his heart raced. Prothean tech on this planet. A force capable of shaping worlds. Something even to rival the Reapers?

 _No. That's impossible._ "These artifacts," he said eventually. "Are there any still functioning?"

"Perhaps," Bak said. "It's a large world, and they don't put out any standard electromagnetic signature. But we-"

"Find them," Saren said. "Whatever it takes, whatever it costs, find them."

All four of Bak's eyes lit up. "Whatever it costs?"

"My pockets are deep, my time isn't, and I won't wait to meet the same fate as the Protheans." Saren put a hand on Bak's shoulder and squeezed. "Find them Bak. Find them."

"Of course, Saren."

Saren didn't say anything. He just turned his gaze back to the carvings.

"A cycle within a cycle," he murmured.

This one had been broken through the end of all things.

The one he faced now…he had to end it on his own terms.

Lest his kind meet the same fate as the people of this world.

* * *

 _A/N_

 _So, it appears that BioWare is recycling plot points from_ Mass Effect _in_ Anthem _...maybe. As in, there's the cycle of the Reapers vs. the cycle of the Anthem of Creation (both cycles involving widespread destruction) with Saren/The Monitor seeking to alter/break the cycle, and coming into conflict with the protagonist as a result._

 _This isn't really a criticism, but it did give me the idea to drabble this up._


End file.
